


The Mailbox

by coffeeandconspiracies



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:58:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandconspiracies/pseuds/coffeeandconspiracies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: mabel never puts the video in the magic mailbox. Dipper and soos reaction to the author of the journals, stanford pines</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mailbox

**Author's Note:**

> this one was really fun for me to write - basically i approached it as a "how would this have gone realistically?" sort of situation

Dipper and Soos crowded around the mailbox anxiously, eager and hesitant to receive their answer. The greatest mystery they’d encountered that summer - who was the author of the journals?

The flag to the mail box rose slowly, and Dipper felt that his heart might burst before he was able to open it. Carefully, he pulled down the lid and reached inside …

“Stanford Pines?” he read aloud, dumbfounded. “Grunkle Stan is the author?!”

“Whoa dude,” Soos said, peering over his shoulder to look for himself. “That’s like, mega plot twist.”

Dipper shook his head and folded the paper up. “No, that can’t be right. Hang on.”

On another piece of paper he wrote, “my great uncle stanford?” The mailbox replied quickly - “yes.”

“This makes no sense!” Dipper exclaimed, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair. “How can - no! No it  _can’t_ be Stan - the mailbox must be wrong!”

“The mailbox is never wrong, dude.”

“What are we - what do we do?!”

“What do we do about what?” Mabel asked, emerging from the trees. She had a box in her hand, ready to be mailed. 

“Mabel! Soos and I found an omnipotent mailbox, and it told us that Grunkle Stan is the author of the journals!”

Mabel raised her hands to the side of her head, then pulled them away, miming an explosion from her temples. “Mind blown.”

“Why aren’t you guys freaking out about this?!” Dipper asked, beginning to hyperventilate. 

Mabel and Soos exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison.

“I always kind of figured there  _was_ a chance it was Stan,” Mabel admitted.

“I thought McGucket for sure but - hey dude, an old man is an old man and all that.”

Dipper threw his arms up over his head, exasperated. “But what do we  _DO?!”_

“Talk to Stan about it?” Mabel suggested, her tone highlighting that it was the obvious answer. 

“I can’t  _talk_ to him about it!” Dipper exclaimed.

Mabel rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Why not?”

“Because it’s  _Stan!_ He doesn’t believe in all this supernatural-mystery stuff!”

“Apparently he does,” Mabel reminded him. “Stan probably just pretends not to know what we’re talking about all the time to protect us or something stupid. He’s a grown-up, they do stuff like that. C’mon, let’s just go ask Stan what this is all about.”

Reluctantly, Dipper allowed Mabel to pull him away from the mailbox and back towards the shack, with Soos trailing behind them.

Inside, Stan sat at the counter, counting money from the drawer. “There you all are! What am I paying you for?”

“You aren’t paying us,” Dipper pointed out.

“And I’m not actually working today, sir,” Soos said.

“Ah whatever. What do you want?”

Dipper took a deep breath. “Grunkle Stan, are you the author of the journals?”

Stan peered over the money he was holding and down at his nephew. “Excuse me?”

Dipper produced the journal from his vest and offered it for Stan to see. “Did you write this?”

“I - no. I’ve never seen that thing before in my life.” Stan looked around, nervously. “Why?”

“Because we found an omnipotent mailbox in the woods, and it told us you did!” Dipper said, nearly shouting. “What the heck, Grunkle Stan? Why do you always make me feel like I’m crazy when all along–”

“Dipper,  _I_  didn’t write those journals.” Stan said, his voice low and serious. 

Dipper froze, his rage temporarily paused. “Well then who did?”

Stan recovered quickly, the usual dismissive aggression back in his voice. “Must’ve been a different Stan Pines.”

“But the mailbox said–”

“Why are you takin’ advice from a mailbox, anyway, kid? C’mon, the gift shop needs sweeping. And give me that book - where did you get this thing anyway? It looks disgusting.” Stan snatched it away from him and began flipping through the pages. “I need to look through this and make sure it’s … age appropriate, or whatever.”

Dipper’s eyes grew wide, and an argument began to climb up his throat - but Mabel grabbed his arm, and he understood her meaning. No more fighting with Stan. He’d look through the book, see that it was okay, and give it back. Grumbling under his breath, Dipper went off to find the boom. 


End file.
